


Thatcher and His Landlord Adventures

by Laurincia



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I can't write accents, Thatcher is a landlord, There MAY BE gay, most likely very OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-11 14:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12937137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurincia/pseuds/Laurincia
Summary: Mike never thought that he would have to deal with a bunch of teenager-like adults and act as some sort of father figure to them when he inherited some apartments from his grandparents, but he did.But if it's one thing he's damn sure of, is that during the day, noise is normal, painfully so. Absolute silence, however, now that's suspicious.





	1. The British are coming!

**Author's Note:**

> I came up with this idea about a week ago and I just had to write this
> 
> Everyone in this story would be aged down ten years for the sake of why not, so our favorite grumpy father figure would be 45/46, and Mute would be a moody teenager that's not really mute, just occasionally quiet

**March 30**

Mike apparently managed to inherit a bunch of decently sized apartment complexes from his grandparents along with a lot of money for renovations, bills, all that great stuff that comes along with being a landlord. So, Mike said fuck it, called up James, Mark, and Seamus to see if they wanted to help keep the apartments up to par, they all agreed, and Mark set up all the things necessary for people to rent out the apartments (when they were fixed, that is). 

 

Each apartment was actually pretty big, came with a fully furnished kitchen, bathroom, unfurnished living room with two bedrooms. There was a total of five floors for the five buildings; one main area for the first floor, and four floors foor living. James insisted that the rent be lower than normal because he knows the struggle of a shitty one-room studio apartment draining his life and bank account nearly a thousand dollars at a time. Mike reluctantly agreed. 

 

It didn’t take long to patch up all the apartments, only needing the occasional light bulb replacement or patch of drywall that was punched out to be fixed up, and painted. Somehow, a countertop and a cabinet spontaneously combusted one day. Mike let Seamus deal with that. Add on the occasionally clogged drain and busted heater, and everything was eventually running and in acceptable condition. Hell, maybe Mike would get lucky and one of the future residents would be a mechanic or something. That’d be nice.

 

 

**March 31**

Day two of renovations rolled around before any of the four realized that any key worked on any apartment door. After some arguing and wondering why the hell they haven’t noticed the lock problem earlier, Seamus decided to try to open one of the apartment doors with his car keys. It worked. They all promptly decided to take a day off.

 

 

**April 1**

Day three, all the locks were finally replaced, deadbolts and chains were installed, along with every single doorknob and lock inside each and every apartment. Mike had never wanted to punch himself in the face more than ever.

 

 

**Apri** **l 2**

Day four. With the frenzy of replacing locks the previous day, none of the four cheeky British men realized that the electrical bill hadn’t been paid. They drew straws and James had to be the one to deal with it. Three hours later, the electricity problem was dealt with, and they were officially open for business.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Mark was a little shit. He’s a technology prodigy or something, according to some of his teachers, but to Mike, he was just a little shit. He made this thing, “Moni” or whatever the hell he called it, and he loves to place it in random locations around various apartments, creating dead spots. No wifi, no signal, nothing. The third time it happened, Mike wanted to punch the little shit, but he didn’t. He was Mark’s guardian, and that wouldn’t be a very good Law and Order case. Mark liked giving people nicknames, for some reason. Mike didn’t really care or mind. Mark started with Seamus. Called him ‘Sledge’ because of his large sledgehammer/crowbar that he had forged and occasionally carried around. 

 

Next came James. Mark just started calling him ‘Smoke’ one day during the renovation period, and it just sort of stuck. Mike asked the teen why, and he just responded, “when James wakes up sometimes, he sounds like an eighty-year-old chain smoker with hardcore lung cancer. And he works with chemicals, so yeah. He also burned one of the counters when he tried to cook noodles and smelled like smoke for about a week.”

“That’s why the cabinet was burnt?! How the fuck do you burn a  _ counter _ trying to cook bloody noodles?! He’s a chemist, he should be good at basic chemistry and cooking!” Mike yelled. 

Mark shrugged. 

Mike decided not to ask any more questions relating to nicknames after that. 

 

Thatcher was the nickname that Mark had so thoughtfully given Mark. A couple hours after the nickname was given, curiosity got the better of Mark, and he asked Seamus why Mike gave him the name. “Little bugger said that you give off an aura of death and that Wi-Fi occasionally cuts out in whatever room you go into, and because you fixed up a roof,” Seamus explained. 

Mike just silently facepalmed and went on with his life.

 

 

**April 3**

The next day, Mike found the beautiful opportunity to give Mark a stupid nickname. Somehow, a couple mice had found a couple cozy homes in the walls of an apartment, and one small and a rather adorable mouse escaped the wall and stumbled into Mark’s path. Mark didn’t really notice anything at first, he was working on something on his laptop at the dinner table. Mike was in the kitchen and saw the mouse in the corner of his eye, scurrying across the floor, and the adorable brown mouse decided to climb up Mark’s pant leg. It was only when the mouse reached his knee that Mark noticed something was up. He bounced his leg a bit to try to shake whatever it was off, but to no avail. Mark finally looked to see what was on his knee, and promptly let out a blood-curdling scream. He freaked out so hard, he tipped the chair back and fell onto the ground. 

The mouse ran away to the kitchen and Mike trapped the mouse with a bucket that was in the kitchen and started laughing. James and Seamus were living on the floor below them and ran up to see what happened. Mark was still on the ground, breathing heavily, while Mike was on the floor laughing until he couldn’t breathe. After regaining some air in his lungs, Mike called up some exterminators to check out the apartments and filled in James and Seamus about Mark’s incredibly girly scream. The exterminators said they would come over tomorrow. Mike had decided to keep the small mouse that scared the everloving shit out of Mark as a pet and made damn sure to make fun of him every single day.

 

 

**April 4**

The exterminators came around and killed the pet mouse’s parents and any other relatives that might be living in the walls, and Mark had lost his voice because of his scream the previous day. Mike, being the ever so living guardian he is, decided to give Mark the nickname, ‘Mute.’ Mark promptly flipped him off. 

 

Mike would never admit it out loud, but the nicknames stuck.


	2. Sledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, essentially, I plan on doing a chapter for each operator (yes, EACH (I'm going to fucking die)) For this, I wanted to focus mainly on Sledge (but I don't quite think I did) hopefully is still good

**April 5**

Mike didn’t really remember how it started or how it happened, but it had become a tradition to celebrate Seamus’ birthday on days that weren’t his birthday. It was close enough to April First that they could do it. Seamus never really cared about it, he just wanted food. 

 

The first time it happened was on April First. Mike, Mark, and James pretended that they would throw a party for the man on April First, and played it for an entire month, ‘sneakily’ talking about it behind Seamus’ back. April Fools day rolled around and no birthday party was mentioned or talked about, same went for the day after April Fools. The actual party was on April third. Seamus pretended to be pissed, but had a good time and laugh anyway.

 

The second time was at the beginning of March, for some godforsaken reason. The three had planned a surprise party for Seamus in the middle of the night, while he was asleep. They ‘broke’ into Seamus’ house at around three in the morning, and snuck into his room. Needless to say, Seamus was surprised. Poppers were lit up, balloons exploded and there was a lot of yelling and screaming. 

 

The third time was in the middle of April. This time, Mark, Mike, and James decided to get Seamus’ entire construction workgroup in on the plan, and scared the shit out of Seamus once again, this time, in the middle of the day. No one showed up to work on time, everyone was intentionally being bad at their job, and at the end of the day, two of the biggest and scariest in the workforce were tasked to kidnap Seamus, and take him to a bar in the middle of Worcester. Yelling, partying and drinking ensued. 

 

This year’s however, would be a lot tamer than the others. Mike and James had planned to take Seamus for a night out, with food, shopping, and late night bar hopping. Mark protested heavily, as he couldn’t go. One, because it was a school night, and two, because the teen wasn’t old enough to drink yet. 

“You have school, ya bloody git,” Mike stood his ground to the loudly protesting Mark. Not really fitting for his nickname, but then again, teens are moody. 

“I can’t just hang out or something? School’s lame anyway! Everyone’s fucking stupid!” Mark yelled. 

“You’re still too young to go out drinking, anyway. Go to a party with teenagers or whatever the hell teenagers do these days.” 

Mark frowned and stomped out to his room. Mark gave a tired look over to James in the kitchen, cracking open a cold one in the middle of the day.

“He’ll get over it,” James said. 

Mike shrugged. “I’ll give him a hundred dollars.”

“Yer spoilin’ him.” 

“He’s a teen,” Mike mocked.

“Fuck off, old man,” James threw a paper plate at Mike.

“I’m not that old!” Mike protested. 

“You’ve gained the dad sneeze, you’re old. Accept your fate.”

“No.”

 

* * *

 

It was around three in the afternoon when James and Mike dragged Seamus out of his room and into James’ soccer mom van, which incidentally, smelled like smoke. “Where are we going?” Seamus asked. 

“Hush, we’re going to kill ya,” James joked.

“Ya spoiled it, ya git!” Mike yelled.

Seamus chuckled, “of course, why should I have expected anything else?”

 

The boys arrived at a mall a couple miles away, and all piled out of the van. 

“This my birthday gift?” Seamus asked.

“Decided to scale it down a bit this year, you’re getting older after all,” James laughed. “Don’t think you can handle any more scares.”

Seamus scoffed. “Least I’m not as old as Thatcher over here.” 

Mike flipped the other two off. And pushed Seamus and James towards the large mall. 

 

They browsed for a while, James being a cheeky bugger tried to hit on girls for Mike. James promptly got slapped by Mike when Seamus snitched. “Don’t know why I was trying to be a good friend and get ya laid when you already have a giant stick up your arse,” James muttered. 

Mike scoffed. “You would too if you had to deal with idiots all the time, teenagers lookin’ at their phones and never paying attention to their surroundings, like you.” 

“I’m deeply offended by that,” James said in a low voice, frowning. 

Seamus lightly pushed James, laughing. “You’re not that much of a millennial. Baby boomer, on the other hand, is a different story.”

Mike rolled his eyes and walked into an electronics store to get some collapsible antennas for Mark, for a ‘project.’ Mike didn’t ask any questions. 

 

The three wandered around for awhile. Seamus bought a couple shirts and a new set of weights (courtesy of Mike and James’ wallet.) After the short (ish) mall trip, the three headed a movie theater in the mall. Mike, being the nice guy he is, bought three tickets to a random movie that they knew they nobody would want to see. The purchase of the unnamed movie must have been surprising to the teller, who even warned him that the movie is complete garbage. Seamus just shrugged, saying it’s for entertainment value. “The more stupid it is, the funnier it is.” 

 

The movie was garbage. It was a cliche horror movie with  _ terrible _ acting and editing. Most of the time, they couldn’t even pay attention to the plot, everything was so bad. It did make for some good laughs though, the three had the whole theater room to themselves, and were free to give scathing commentary to the bad movie. The cringe was indescribable.

 

* * *

 

After the bad horror fest, they hightailed it to the nearest bar. It was around six, so it wasn’t  _ too _ depressing. The nearest bar was only a few minutes away, next to a good and rather cheap restaurant. Sledge decided that alcohol poisoning on an empty stomach wouldn’t be a good idea, but then again, alcohol poisoning isn’t a good thing either. The three walked in and got seated at a random booth. For the sake of not emptying their wallets, Mike told James and Seamus to pretend to get engaged for more free dessert, and Mike would say it was his birthday (even though it really isn’t.) 

“If you want me to pretend to get engaged to Seamus, I’m going to need a drink. And a ring,” James sighed. 

Seamus groaned and Mike let out a hearty laugh. Mike took off his plain silver ring and placed it on the table. “Don’t lose it,” he warned. 

James clicked his tongue and pocketed the ring. “After food.” 

Mike rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yer just stallin’.” 

James made a face and shrugged. Seamus flagged the waiter down and ordered some basic whiskey. He was going to need it for the plans that were literally just formed a minute ago. 

 

“Bloody hell, why did I agree to this?” James groaned. 

“For the free engagement desert, love,” Seamus slung an arm around the other man’s  shoulders. 

“Get the wedding bells ready,” Mike smirked, pulling out his phone to record the moment of love, not pretend for a little more dessert. (Mike had already gotten his ‘birthday’ dessert.) James put his head in his hands and groaned loudly, before standing up and getting out of the booth. He started to give a cliche and overused engagement speech to the younger man still sitting in the booth and started to turn red. “Seamus,” James started. His voice cracked a bit. Mike didn’t know if it was because of immersion or because of embarrassment. “I’ve known you for almost my whole life, and I know this isn’t the ideal place for something like this, but frankly, I can’t find myself to give a shit right now.” He got down on one knee. “Seamus Crowden, will you marry me?”

Seamus on the other hand, Looked like he wanted to just spontaneously combust and kill everyone in the restaurant. 

Everyone was silent, waiting for a response from the other man.

“Y-yes,” Seamus stuttered. 

Mike took his role as best friend to cheer loudly and James got up, embracing the other man.

 

“I can’t go in there without the staff asking generic wedding questions now,” Seamus muttered.

“Hey, the dessert was  _ heavenly _ ,” James laughed as they walked out of the restaurant and to the nearest bar a few stores down. 

Seamus made some sort of high pitched wailing noise and bonked his head against Mike’s shoulder two times. 

“How’s the birthday celebrations?” Mike asked. 

“I’m happy I didn’t get a heart attack,” Seamus chuckled.

Mike scoffed and opened the door to the bar. “You’re still young, you’ve got a couple more years before you risk heart attacks.” 

“You’re already there, old man,” James ruffled Mike’s hair. 

“Fuck off, muppet.” 

 

Mike took it upon himself to be the designated driver and stuck to water and sodas, while James and Seamus emptied their’s (and his) wallets with elaborate and fancy drinks. According to James, the girly, fruity shots were the best. By the time they were done, James could barely stand straight and Seamus nearly punched a couple people. Mike hauled James out of the bar with Seamus following slowly. “Just like old times,” Mike reminisce. 

“Granted, old times were a lot crazier and only a couple years ago,” Seamus said quietly. Mike could see a small smile on the other’s face. 

“You have a life to live, live it,” Mike said. He unlocked James’ car, placed him in the back seat and laid him down on his side. Seamus got in the front and placed rested his head against the cool glass. Mike started the car and started the drive to the apartments. 

 

Halfway there, Seamus broke the silence. “I'm worried about you, ya know?”

“What do you mean?” Mike asked.

“You’ve been a lot more depressed lately. Somethin’s getting to ya.” 

“Really? I didn’t know,” Mike muttered. 

“I feel like landlording will be a good thing for ya.” 

Mike hummed a response. Maybe it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEP that's the chapter. Next up is the Smokey boi


	3. Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyy it's ya boi, Smoke

**April 6**

Hangovers were fun, not for the person having the hangovers though. Mike had always made it a personal goal to mildly annoy James and Seamus whenever they had hangovers, with whatever wouldn’t get his head bashed in with Caber, Seamus’ sledgehammer. This morning, Mike took it upon himself to get the two aspirins and a solid block of ice for water. He then grabbed a nearby broom from a small storage space in the kitchen on the second floor (which was James’ and Seamus’ floor) and poked at the smoke alarm with the handle. 

 

Mike eventually pressed the button, and loud beeping emitted from the ‘safety’ device. Mike could hear screaming coming from James’ room and he just silently sipped on his water. “What the bloody  _ fuck  _ are you doing?!” 

Mike smirked behind the glass of water. “Had to wake up at some time, Smoke,” Mike said, using the nickname Mark gave him. 

“So you decide to do it with a smoke alarm?” James asked. 

Mike nodded. Somewhere else in the apartment (in front of James’ room), Seamus’ door slammed open and said man threw a half-empty water bottle in the general area of Mike. 

Mike chuckled and prodded the smoke alarm with the broom handle to turn it off. “Don’t you have a thing you need to do? For your college or something?” Mike asked. 

James paused. “ _ Shit _ .” 

Mike decided it would be time to leave the apartment. 

 

“Mike,  _ please _ , I need help for this!” James begged.

“I’m busy, get Seamus,” Mike refused. 

“No, the fuck you’re not!” 

Mike stopped and stared down James. “ _ Fine. _ ”

The other immediately brightened up and dragged Mike to his workshop in the basement of the apartment. “What do you need to do for the project?” Mike asked. 

“I need to something regarding science,” James deadpanned. 

“Well, no shit.” 

James groaned. “Fine, I’m working on a secret component of a thing.” 

Mike raised an eyebrow. “What ‘thing’?” 

“Uhm… Gas?” James shrugged.

“Are you making a fucking biological weapon?” Mike asked. 

“Biological, yes, weapon... Not really. Well, hopefully not,” James muttered the last part. 

“Well I better not be helping with making a weapon, I don’t need to get arrested.” 

“Can’t guarantee anything,” James smiled and held up a small canister.

 

* * *

 

A couple hours later, James’ project was done. Some strange mustard gas that smells like pure cancer mixed with rat poison was put into the canister. Mike decided not to ask any specifics about what the hell it was, and just followed James’ instructions of, “put one gram of that thing there into the beaker.”  When he did, an ugly yellow/orange smoke came from the bubbling mixture. “Are you sure that’s supposed to happen, Smoke?” Mike asked. 

James paused and looked over his notes on the table behind them. “According to my calculations, it’s a solid  _ maybe _ .” 

“Great, I’m gonna fuckin die,” Mike muttered to himself. 

 

The instructions were vague as hell, but might as well go along with it. If needed, Mike could just make James pay the whole ‘normal’ amount of rent. As long as no one was killed from the rat poison/cancer mix, Mike didn’t give a shit. By the time everything was cleaned up, properly disposed of and put away, Mark was back from the glorious adventure that was high school. Mike was just walking out of the basement with James a couple steps behind him when Mark zoomed passed them and went into his room on the third floor. The two could hear the door slam. “You might want to go deal with that,” James suggested. “Thanks for the help today.” He placed a hand on Mike’s shoulder and lightly pushed him forward. Mike never really knew how to deal with moody teenagers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short as hell but I didn't know what else to add... Smol boi is next


	4. Mute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I'm 99.9% sure that the way I write the various operators is EXTREMELY out of character, but I don't really have much to go on other than the wiki, the character descriptions and voice lines on YouTube. 
> 
> ALSO, I MESSED UP. The way I wanted to write the apartments seems pretty wonky, so Imma explain! There are five floors. The first one is essentially a 'chill room.' Kitchen, living room, bathrooms, etc. The second to fifth floors are actual living areas, so I'm going to have to go back to each chapter and edit those things, so please don't be mad that I didn't explain things as well as I thought I did

**April 6**

 

When Mike walked up the stairs and towards Mark’s room, he could hear loud metal music coming from behind the closed door. He sighed and knocked on the door. 

No answer.

Mike slowly opened the door and saw Mark at his desk, angrily doing homework. “Mark? What happened?” Mike asked. Mark turned down the music a little bit and turned to look at Mike. 

“The fucking White Masks again,” Mark muttered quietly.

If Mike wasn’t actively trying to figure out what happened, he would have surely missed what Mark said. “White Masks? Those bloody gang kids?” Mike asked. 

The teen nodded. 

“What happened?”

Mark paused the music and turned the chair to look at Mike. There was a pretty bad bruise on his cheek. “You know about my parents, right?”

Mike nodded.

“Well, they said some shit and I punched one. Ganged up on me.”

Mike nodded. Some kids were going to get their shit kicked in. 

“Where are you going?” Mark asked when Mike turned to leave the room. 

“To kick some arse, my child,” Mike said quietly. 

“You don’t have to, I can deal with it.” 

“I’ve never seen you so pissed off, I’m dealing with it,” Mike didn’t let Mark complain.

“You’re not being a very good role model,” Mark muttered.

“I never said I would be or that I was,” Mike pointed out. 

“You sure this it’s a good idea?” Mark asked, worried. 

“Fuck yes. No one gets away with hurting my child!” 

“I’m not really your kid though,” Mark whispered.

“You might as well be,” Mike uttered. 

  
  


Mike had texted Seamus, telling him to keep an eye on James, while he went to deal with some business. He stole the keys to James’s van, his gas mask from his SAS days, and drove from Herefordshire to Worcester. James wouldn’t miss his van, he doesn’t need to go to Bartlett until Monday anyway. 

The door to the clubhouse was closed. There was loud, obnoxious music emanating from the interior. Mike tried to open the door but it was locked. It wasn’t even that late, and usually, clubs are open for hours on end, even after ‘night.’ Mike just kicked open the door. The music was still playing, and rowdy teenagers were heard shouting. Mike walked towards the noise. He eventually reached the bar and put on his gas mask. There was this pretty big guy taking shots of whiskey straight from the bottle. The signature white mask was slightly off center from his face, allowing him to drink. Judging by the other tiny scrubs filling the bar, Mike assumed the big guy was the leader. A smaller one noticed Mike and walked up to him. “Fuck you doin’ here?” He asked. 

Mike cracked his knuckles and delivered a swift punch to the guy’s face. He dropped to the ground and didn’t get up. The music stopped and everyone turned to look at Mike. “No one beats up my kid,” Mike threatened. Cliche? Probably. 

All the White Masks in the bar simultaneously got up and charged at Mike. 

  
  


Couple minutes later, Mike and the big guy were the only ones left standing. Mike had taken a couple punches, but he could handle a little bruising. Military combat training truly does wonders. 

“You taking care of that little computer nerd?” Big guy asked. 

“It’s that obvious? I didn’t know!” Mike said sarcastically. The gas mask muffled his voice a bit. 

“Well, yer gonna fuckin’ pay!” 

“Then you should’ve fought with your pals, instead of standin’ there like a pussy,” Mike leaned down and took off one of the Mask’s mask. 

The guy ran over and threw a punch. 

Mike ducked under and elbowed him in the stomach. Guy doubled over and Mike backhanded him with the mask. “Might want to learn basic combat if you ever intend on running a gang,” Mike muttered. The guy was on the ground, wheezing. 

 

* * *

 

Mike slowly drove back home. Both the masks were on the passenger seat, straps and buckles rattled lightly against the material. He pulled up to the apartments and parked in James’ normal spot. He grabbed the masks, and walked up to the second floor, masks in hand. He unlocked the door and walked to Mark’s room, knocking on the door. Mark opened the door shortly after and blinked. Mike tossed him the white mask and ran a hand down his face. “Did you kill them?” Mark asked, holding the mask in his hands. 

“Why is that automatically the first thing you assume?” 

Mark shrugged. “You haven’t touched your mask in years.” 

“Maybe it was about time that I wore it again.” Mike ruffled the teen’s hair and pulled him into a hug. “You’re a good noodle, don’t change.”

  
  


Things did change the next day. Mike got his first tenants, four people training to be FBI. 


	5. Open up, it's the FBI! (In Training)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAH I MESSED UP BECAUSE I FUKED UP ON THE FLOOR LAYOUTS THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS SO YEAH

**April 7**

Things instantly got more hectic. Weekends were usually calm, but today, a moving truck was in the driveway, hauling things into the A building (which was also the SAS boi’s). Turns out, Mark and James had the whole ‘accepting new tenants’ thing down pat while Mike was out to kick some ass. Luckily, they ran background checks. Wouldn’t want serial killers and drug addicts living in the apartments, now do we? 

 

First, there was Eliza Cohen. Mike actually quite liked her. Sure, she might be aggressive and cocky as all hell, but underneath the layers of scathing sarcasm that was just borderline mean, was a nice and actually caring woman. 

 

Jordan Trace was next. Loved all things bright and shiny. Bonus points if they exploded, and were hot. He loved to be in control of uncontrollable situations and was overall a pretty chill guy. 

 

Miles Campbell just radiated a calm aura (unlike Mike who according to Mark, radiated an aura of death.) Loved to make sure everything and everyone were safe, highly protective of his friends, and learns languages as a hobby. As far as Mike knew, Miles knows Spanish, Korean, and Latin. He vaguely remembers Miles saying something about German and French. 

 

Last but not least, Jack Estrada. That guy just loves to be kind of creepy and unsettling in Mike’s eyes. Could’ve been an interrogator or a psychologist in another life, maybe even a serial killer. Biometrics and microscopic shit was his jam, along with anything from small movements, speech patterns, and physicality. But aside from the general creepiness and kind of douchiness (he wears sunglasses indoors, for fuck’s sake) he seems cool? Well, at least Mark thinks so. 

 

And with new people, came new nicknames, thanks to Mark and some small help from James. Mark had decided to call Jordan ‘Thermite’ one day because Jordan had told the little bugger that he was working on something that could cut through ‘the strongest barrier known to man.’ Jordan had said something about a number of degrees and C4. Mike tried not to care too much about the C4 part, as long as he didn’t blow up the apartments or the garages. Jordan didn’t really seem to have any objections to it and decided to claim the A garage as his workshop to make sure nothing gets too badly destroyed. Jordan also sounds like one of those dudes in a Ford truck commercial. 

 

The apartments were located somewhere between the suburbs and country, so if things did explode, nothing would be  _ too  _ badly damaged. Eliza’s nickname came shortly after. Mark had asked Jordan to see his exothermic charges in action. Jordan was happy to oblige. Eliza had tagged along to see how his progress was going and stayed a relatively safe distance away from the charge with Mark. Mike was watching from the apartment balconies as Jordan set up a large slab of steel to stand up on its own (and slightly on a large rock) after he placed a charge, put on his goggles, and set it off as soon as he reached a safe distance. The mixture of various compounds mixed and cut through the steel, making a large rectangle before the C4 blew a huge hole in the slab of steel. Some calculations must have been wrong because the blast kicked up a lot of dirt and dust (even some powder steel) back at the three. Mark was slightly less covered than the other two because he had hidden behind the safety of James’ van, while Eliza and Jordan were covered in dirt. Mark then started calling Eliza ‘Ash.’ Thankfully, she didn’t kill him. 

 

‘Castle’ is Miles’ nickname, because shortly after the four got settled in, Mike and Mark went around to check on everyone, making sure no one was killed or anything was immediately destroyed. He knocked on Miles’ and Jack’s door and there was no response. He opened the unlocked door shortly after and was face to face with some sort of snake-scale like barricade in front of the door. He knocked on the barricade and it was taken down shortly after, and was rolled into a roll, tucked neatly under Miles’ arm. “Sorry, wasn’t expecting visitors,” Miles’ chuckled sheepishly and placed the barricade on the ground next to the door. Mike could see Jack lying on the floor behind Miles but paid no attention to him. 

“I could see that,” Mike muttered. 

“Castle!” Mark exclaimed out of nowhere.

“Are you on drugs?” Mike turned to ask the smaller teen.

“No! But that should be Miles’ nickname! Looks like dragon scales and dragons are usually associated with castles!” Mark explained. 

Miles’ laughed. “If that’s your explanation, why not have it be ‘Dragon’ then?”

“You look more like a defender than an attacker,” Mark thought out loud. 

Mike didn’t ask. 

 

James took the liberty of granting Jack a nickname. The bugger had snuck up on Mike while he was walking up the stairs to his floor when Jack literally fell down the stairs and almost over the railing. “What the fuck?! Are you mad?!” Mike yelled. James had heard loud bangs and peered over the fourth-floor balcony to see what happened. (He was hanging out with Eliza and Jordan.) 

Jack’s only response to potentially dying was to laugh. “Oh jeez, your heart rate must have jumped up to at least one hundred twenty beats per minute, careful, you could have died, old man!” 

“Fuck you!” Mike yelled as Jack was still laughing. He didn’t seem to care that he just fell down two flights of stairs for some godforsaken reason. 

“Act tough all you want, I know you were scared shitless,” Jack smirked. He got up off the balcony and leaned on the railing, rubbing a spot on his arm.  

“Really? How?” Mike asked. 

“You’re trying to suppress your heavy breathing, you’re sweating, and your pupils are dilated,” Jack explained. 

“You sure know a lot about that stuff,” James pointed out.

“It’s my specialty,” Jack deadpanned. 

“Do you see heartbeats or something?” James asked. 

“Not yet, I’m working on something for that though.” 

“Hey, you should be called ‘Pulse’!” James suggested. 

Jack shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” 

 

Things had become a lot more hectic that weekend. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is Ash


	6. Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever to actually get to uploading because I've been procrastinating via Rainbow and working on part two(ish) of "I Wish"

**April 8**

Mike was walking around the apartments, running through his normal rounds, making sure nothing was destroyed or no one was killed. He reached the main floor and Eliza was leaning on the counter of the main kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. 

“It’s seven in the morning,” Mike pointed out. 

“I am well aware of the time, thank you,” Eliza smiled, putting down her coffee. 

“Is there a reason you’re up so early? You don’t need to do any housekeeping,” Mike asked, opening the refrigerator to take out a carton of juice. He poured some into a glass. 

“I know, it’s just habit. Besides, the guys can’t cook for shit.  _ Maybe _ Jordan can, but I haven’t really asked and I haven’t stuck around to see.” 

Mike took a sip and nodded. “You know James is a scientist or a chemist or whatever the fuck, right?”

Eliza hummed.

“Well,” Mike placed the glass on the counter. “Bloody bastard managed to burn a counter trying to cook noodles.” 

Eliza laughed. “How in the hell do you manage that?”

Shrugging, Mike responded, “no clue. If you’re going to cook, I’ll help.” 

“Appreciate it, old man,” Eliza smirked. 

“Don’t mention it,  _ Ash. _ ” 

 

“Jack told me about your mini-heart attack yesterday,” Eliza brought up unpleasant memories as she flipped a pancake. 

“Why did he fall down the balcony anyway?” Mike asked, taking out a rather large bottle of generic maple syrup. 

“He said something about wanting to see your reaction.” 

“So naturally, he falls three whole stories.” 

“Naturally.” 

Mike grunted and placed some failed pancakes on a plate. For Jack. “Are you two dating?” 

Eliza stopped and glanced over at Mike. “Me and Jack?”

Nodding, Mike asked, “who else?”

“Oh. Well, it’s complicated,” she muttered, placing a pancake on a plate. 

“ ‘Complicated’ is a Facebook relationship status for divorcing couples, it’s not really a real-life status.”

“Real life relationships can be complicated!” 

Mike hummed. “Jordan said that you two used to be really close. Not as much now though, as it seems.” 

“Really? That traitor!” She angrily placed the bowl of batter down on the counter. She took a deep breath and calmed down. “Things happened and things were said. We’re a team, I can’t let past problems cause tensions and fuck things up in missions.” 

Mike smiled and pat her on the back with a spatula. “That’s the response I was looking for. If you’re all going to remain a team, you have to deal with problems before you get out into the mission, otherwise shit goes south quick.” 

Eliza turned around and threw a small chunk of pancake at Mike. “How the hell do you know about things like that anyway?”

“Special Air Services. I was the oldest on active duty until I retired,” Mike explained. He placed the plates and silverware down on the dinner table and counter. There wasn’t enough room on the table for eight people, so some would have to eat on the counters with barstools. 

“Shit, you really are old,” Eliza laughed. 

“Fuck off, Ash.”


End file.
